


I get light headed, thin ice that I'm treading

by tiniestawoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Beta Derek Hale, Diverges from end of 3b, F/F, F/M, Fractured Mental State, Full Shift Werewolves, Gen, Good Alpha Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Good Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Good Peter Hale, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Mates, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24464317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: After being found "not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect" for the murders committed by the demon wearing his face, Stiles is kidnapped from the courthouse.Three years later, the pack gets the call they've ben desperately waiting for, and Stiles gets the rescue he'd forgotten to hope for.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 358
Collections: Teen Wolf





	I get light headed, thin ice that I'm treading

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this was born of me going "how the fuck does nobody care that Stiles is just walking around BH like nobody got killed by someone wearing his face???" after the end of 3b. It's been sitting in my WIP's folder for a while, but I just needed to post something new/different/totally mine after pouring so much time into other projects. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Oh, and the title is from Love Me Less by MAX ft Quinn XCII)

Three weeks after they sealed the Nogitsune away in Talia Hale’s wooden box, Stiles was still in his room at home. The first week was spent with twice-daily visits from Melissa, who checked his vitals and brought him supplements from the hospital to help him heal. After that, it was just his dad allowed into his room. Scott stopped by a few times, Lydia twice, even Chris Argent and Isaac tried to stop by on their way out of town, but Stiles’ father turned them all away.

Stiles didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t want their hugs. He didn’t want to touch anyone ever again, to hurt anyone ever again. Only he and his father knew the truth about what lay in Stiles’ future. Only they know that Stiles was technically under house-arrest, and that at the end of the month he’d go before a judge for his sentencing hearing. His lawyer had made a deal – not-guilty by reason of mental disease or defect. Stiles didn’t have the heart to point out that the defect is now gone.

Derek, however, didn’t bother trying to get through the Sheriff. He just waited for the Sheriff to have left for work and climbed through Stiles’ bedroom window. Stiles, not sleeping, unable to sleep until the exhaustion drags him under, barely had the energy to tell him to leave. He just glared from his spot on his bed, curled up into a tiny ball around his pillow.

Stiles, objectively, knew he looked like shit. His hair hadn’t been washed in days and was sticking up in a hundred directions. He had on clothes he’s slept in at least twice. His skin was pale and sickly, the bags under his eyes were dark bruises, and he’d probably lost about ten pounds in the last three weeks. He can’t help it. He didn’t want food; he doesn’t want anything.

He sometimes wonders if it would have been easier on everyone if he’d just died.

Derek didn’t say anything for a long time, he just stared. Stiles realized he’s probably counting his pulse or watching him breathe or trying to figure out what is going on in Stiles’ head using chemosignals or some other werewolf bullshit.

“Ethan left town.”

Stiles almost jumped when Derek finally spoke, staring at Derek like he’s grown antlers or something. “Okay?” He said, shrugging a tiny bit.

Derek didn’t comment further, just continued to watch Stiles. After what feels like an eternity, he started to speak again, “When I realized that the fire that killed my entire family was my fault, I felt like this, like you do, for a long time. It took me years to realize that I was just a kid who had been manipulated by an adult.” Derek tried for a smile, “I was manipulated by someone in her twenties. You were manipulated by a thousand-year-old evil trickster spirit who fed on chaos and pain. I know it feels like the world is ending, but eventually, you’ll see that it wasn’t your fault. Nobody blames you, Stiles.”

It wasn’t true. Stiles knew point blank that that was a lie. They couldn’t exactly spread to the whole world that the creature who wore the Sheriffs’ sons’ face, the creature who had terrorized, had killed people, wasn’t actually Stiles Stilinski. There would _always_ be people who blamed him.

“It doesn’t matter if people blame me or not.” He said softly, unwilling to meet Derek’s eyes, “I’m probably about to be locked away in Eichen’s long-term unit either way. Someone, something, wearing my face, killed five sheriff’s deputies, three nurses, a doctor, and two innocent people. And that’s just the ones the police knew about. There are more, Derek.” A thousand years of deaths. Not all of them were perpetrated by Stiles’ face, but the guilt for the death – no, the guilt for feeling pleasure because of the deaths ate at him regardless.  
  
“Most of that happened after the Nogitsune split from you, though.” Derek sounded angry, incensed. “Stiles, why didn’t your dad fight this?”

“He did.” Stiles said flatly, “I wanted to plead guilty. Him and my lawyer worked out a deal. Not guilty by reason of insanity.” Stiles pushed himself to sit up, ignoring the spinning of his head from a lack of food, or dehydration, possibly both. “I get sentenced on the first. It’s probably an indefinite placement at Eichen, until they can be sure I’m not a danger anymore.” Stiles shook his head, a sad smile on his face, “Which means I’m never leaving, because Eichen turns people into dangerous creatures.”

Derek’s hands were white from how tightly they gripped the arms of Stiles’ desk chair. “So you’re not even going to fight it, you’re just going to let them lock you up for something you didn’t do?”

Stiles looked away from Derek, “But I did do it. Sure, not consciously.” He held up his hands, shaking, “It doesn’t change that the blood is still on my hands.”

Derek took a long breath and studied the ceiling, “Does Scott know?”

“No one knows, and it’s going to fucking stay that way.” Stiles glared, “The sheriff’s station, the hospital, the fucking school, they’re never going to be the same, because of something that was wearing my fucking face. I just want to go, Derek. I want to go get locked in some room and hidden away where I can’t hurt anyone ever again. I’m a monster.” Stiles closed his eyes, “Just go.”

Derek tried to think of the right words to say, to somehow convince Stiles that he was wrong and that it wasn’t his fault and the blood was on the Nogitsune’s hands not his but nothing he says is going to be enough. “You’re not a monster.” He deciced, leaving as quietly as he came.

\--

On the first of June, Stiles got sentenced to Eichen House for an indeterminate sentence that will be reviewed on a yearly basis.

Derek sat at the back of the court room silently, and watched them cuff Stiles’ hands and feet together, watched them walk him through the room, out the back to the transport van. He was still watching the door Stiles left out of when the Sheriff touched his shoulder softly. Derek looked up. “Thought he wasn’t telling any of you?”

“He wasn’t.” Derek said softly, “I riled him up and it slipped out. He asked me not to tell anyone, so I didn’t.”

Noah nodded, “Do you think he’s going to be safe in there?”

Derek studied Stiles’ father for a long time, watching the crinkle of his eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart beat, smelling the fear and guilt and worry on the man. “No.” He answered honestly, “But I’m not sure where he can feel safe. If this is what he thinks is right, maybe we need to trust him.”

Noah sighed, dropping onto the bench next to Derek, rubbing large hands roughly across his face, “He’s 17, Derek. He’s just a kid. A year and a half ago the biggest worry in his mind was whether or not Lydia Martin would give him the time of day. Now he’s being locked away for crimes that he didn’t even consciously commit.”

Derek wished a number of times in the past weeks that werewolf pain transfer worked for emotional pain, but he knows it doesn’t. He’s tried. “He’ll always be pack.” Derek said softly, “We don’t blame him for what he did. When he gets out, when he feels like he’s paid enough, he’ll always be welcome.”

A scream erupted from outside the building and Derek was on his feet in an instant. The Sheriff followed, and they ran through the doors the bailiff had taken Stiles through, towards the back of the courthouse where the Eichen House transport van had been waiting. There was blood on the floor, the bailiff dead on the ground with his throat slashed. The driver of the van was also dead.

Stiles was nowhere to be seen. His cuffs were on the ground. The orderly that was supposed to be escorting him was still on the ground, gasping for breath. Derek dropped to him, “Did Stiles do this?” He asked. Maybe the Nogitsune wasn’t gone, maybe it had been another trick.

The orderly gave the smallest shake of his head, his throat ruined by what looked too much like claws for Derek to discount, “R-red e-eyes.” His dying words split Derek’s heart in two. He turned up to Noah who was rapidly calling for backup.

“What?” Noah asked, covering the receiver of the phone.

“Stiles got taken by an alpha.” Derek said softly, digging for his phone, fumbling to unlock it before he scrolled to Scott’s name and hit send. It took two rings for Scott to pick up. Before he could even say word, Derek spoke, “Scott, get the pack, call everyone, Stiles was taken by an alpha.”

“Taken from where?”

“Taken from the courthouse.” Derek said, trying to find the scent of the alpha under the layers of blood and sweat and….Stiles. He stops trying to find the alpha’s scent and ignores Scott’s confused questions. He hung up and turned to the Sheriff. “Scott is on his way here. I’m going to follow the trail while I still can.” He held onto Stiles’ scent, thick with fear, and followed.

Derek followed the trail for a mile, zig-zagging through downtown Beacon Hills and eventually disappearing in the center of a parking garage. He sat on the ground in the center of the parking space holding his head in his hands for a long time.  
  
It’s Cora that found him there first, dropping to her knees, “Derek? What is it, are you okay?”

Derek shook his head, looking up at his sister, “Stiles is gone. The scent lead here and then it disappeared. He’s just gone.”  
  
Cora’s eyebrows drew together, “Why do you care so much, Derek? He’s just some kid.”

“You don’t understand. He’s not just some kid, Cora.” Derek looked up at the ceiling for a minute before he looked back at his sister, “He’s the heart and soul of the Beacon Hills pack. Without him, the pack will fall apart.” He shook his head, “We’ll all fall apart.” _I’ll fall apart._

\--

**_Three years later_ **

Stiles remembered having morals, at one point in his life. He remembered standing up for his friends and his father and doing what was right. He remembered believing in people coming to save him, believing in True Alpha Scott McCall and believing in Derek Hale, the born wolf willing to give up an alpha spark for his family. He used to believe in things like family, like a father who loved him and Lydia Martin, the banshee, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

All of those things felt a lifetime away now. Now, he knows what a person’s heart sounds like when they lie. He knows cold and hot anger, the fine line between a cruel death and a merciful one. He knows the power a full moon can give a werewolf, he knows the agony of resisting a change, the strength it takes to keep yourself human, how strongly the wolf wants to be free, to run, to kill. He knows how it feels for a wolf to be pack. He never wanted to know. He never wanted to be a werewolf, but the choice had been taken away from him.

He’d resisted the alpha’s orders for six months. He’d held onto the image of his best friends, his chosen brother’s face, his alpha, the only alpha he’d ever willingly bow to. He held onto Derek’s eyes, blue or red or green, but always watching him, worrying about him. He held onto how Lydia’s lips felt pressed against his, the shape of her eyes, the feel of her weight against him. He held onto the image of his dad, sitting in the courtroom three years ago, watching helplessly as the bailiff took Stiles away. He held on with everything he had.

But after the sixth full moon, the picture shattered away and in its place was the face of the cold, deranged alpha that had taken him, that had come for the Nogitsune, that had come for the Void. He didn’t care the it was gone, the memories, the kills, the bloodlust. It was all still there, soaked so deeply into Stiles’ memory that by the time the alpha made him kneel, it felt more like home than memories of his father, of his mother’s laughter, of Scott’s smile, Derek’s steady gaze, Lydia’s eyes. They were so far away by the sixth moon that Stiles lost his grip on them, and they tumbled away.

He stopped fighting the alpha’s orders, he shifted when he was told to, knelt when he was told to, fought when he was told to, and killed when he was told to. In return, he was well fed, allowed to shower, and wear clothing. The first time Stiles had been allowed to see a mirror after the change, it didn’t even surprise him to see blue irises staring back at him.

 _You’re not a monster._

“Sorry to disappoint, Derek.” Stiles had said to himself, staring at the mirror. The name felt cold and foreign on his lips. Words at all were, his alpha didn’t like when he spoke, told Stiles to hold his tongue more often than not. It had taken him six months to break and another six to gain control, to be allowed to go out into public. He wasn’t really sure where he was, somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Oregon, he thought.

At least here, nobody in the town knew him as the Nogitsune. They feared him for other reasons, they knew what his alpha was, what the other wolves were capable of, and what they assumed he was capable of. Stiles’ resistance had died with his hope. Now, he was a weapon, a tool. The alpha trained them daily, for hours on end, longer as they got closer to the full moon. They sparred with sticks and fought hand-to-hand. They fought while human and beta shifted. The alpha had been furious when he saw that Stiles had the ability to fully shift, had nearly killed him, demanding that Stiles tell him how he had done it.

He was only given water and sugar packets for three weeks after he’d failed to explain it. Just push your wolf to the surface and let it breathe, break the chains that hold it back, give yourself up to it. The alpha had demanded that Stiles explain better, but there was no better explanation.

 _The bite is a gift. You’re not a monster, you’re a werewolf, like me._

Stiles wasn’t so sure about it being a gift, but it was easier than fighting with the wolf. Stiles was quieter when he shifted, could cover ground more quickly, move faster than human eyes could track. Some days, it took everything in Stiles to drag himself back from the wolf, to re-emerge as a person, to slide into dirty sweatpants and eat dinner with the pack.

The pack who harbored him, but not the right pack.

The alpha who commanded him, but not the right alpha.

The right pack had forgotten him, left him to die. The right alpha had never come to look. Fighting back was pointless. If this alpha wanted him to be a weapon, he’d do what he was told. 

\--

Derek woke with a start to the sound of his phone ringing. He reached for it and answered it with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Derek, we need to go right now.” It was Scott on the other line. “We need to go to Oregon. I’m on my way to your house now, Malia and Lydia should be there soon. Bring Cora. We need to leave right as soon as possible.”

“Scott, what happened? Is everyone okay.”

“Argent thinks he found Stiles.” The line clicked dead and Derek was frozen for a few minutes before he finally kicked himself into action. “CORA.” His sister – wide eyed – poked her head into his room, “Get dressed, we need to go.”

“Go where?” Cora asked, “Did something happen? Is the pack okay?”

“To Oregon.” Derek said, “Scott will be here soon.”

Cora headed back to her own room as Derek dug through his dresser for a clean shirt, finding a black long sleeve and tugging it over his chest as he ran downstairs, digging in the basket by the door for his wallet and keys before pulling on his leather jacket. Hearing noises outside, he opened the door to see Scott, Malia and Lydia looking at him.  
  
Cora appeared behind him a few minutes later, “Derek’s driving, right? He’s definitely got the most comfortable car.” She grinned and pushed past him, walking towards the Toyota.

Once they were settled, Derek pulled out of the driveway and headed for the highway north.

“Okay, so what do you mean Argent thinks he found Stiles?” He asked, glancing briefly at Scott.

Chris Argent had returned from France almost as soon as word that Stiles had been kidnapped by an alpha werewolf had reached him. He and Isaac were working with various lesser known hunter groups around the country, teaching them tolerance, spreading the new code, showing them how to fight with werewolves rather than always against them. They were searching for Stiles along the way, meeting with dozens of hunters and wolf packs to see if anyone had heard anything about the missing young man. They stopped in once every few months, so that Isaac could have contact with the pack, to prevent the madness of being an omega.

“Argent called me, told me to get some of the pack and head north. He said that he and Isaac had been called to help with a pack of particularly aggressive werewolves. There was five total, and according to reports, they all have blue eyes, aside from the alpha. They took out the alpha, and the alpha spark passed to another beta, one that was a really strong fighter. He started to fight back, and the hunters wanted to take him out as well, but one of the betas held him back, kept him from getting to the hunters. Isaac really thinks that that beta is Stiles.”

Derek gripped the steering wheel hard. Best case scenario had always been that they’d find Stiles alive and okay, that he would be mostly unhurt, or at least not anything that couldn’t be fixed. A less positive scenario was that he’d been turned. Worst case, he was dead – either from the bite, or the werewolf that had taken him. Him being alive, and willing to defend an alpha that wasn’t Scott? That could make extraction tricky. “What do you mean Isaac really thinks?” Derek said, frowning, “Stiles can’t look that different.”

Scott sat back against the passenger seat with a nod, “This wolf can do a full shift, Derek.” Scott turned to look at his Second, “That’s why Isaac isn’t sure. The wolf is in his full shift and won’t shift back. He doesn’t trust anyone. The other wolves swear that he isn’t feral, and that he’s capable of controlling the shift and coming back. He’s guarding the other two betas and the alpha. Isaac and Argent are holding the other hunters off until morning, until we can get there. If we can’t get him to shift back, they’ll have no choice but to put him down.”

\--

Somewhere, in the deep parts of Stiles’ mind, he knew this odd wolf that was working with the hunters. He knew him from somewhere. He was in one of the fragments of Stiles’ mind that used to hold the things he was stupid enough to think were real. The true alpha, the born beta, the banshee, his father. If those things existed, he wouldn’t be here now. He wouldn’t be pacing on four paws in front of his terrified pack.

The other two betas clung to the alpha, giving him comfort, trying to help him hold back the shift, the power that came with an alpha spark. They were telling him to let the true wolf, as they called him, handle it.

The odd beta werewolf – in his human form – sat on the floor in front of him and spoke to him softly.

“They’re coming, Stiles.”

Who was Stiles? No one had called him that in a long time.

“Scott, and Derek and Lydia. They’re coming to help you.”

Scott and Derek and Lydia.

“You have to remember, you have to change back.”

Change back? How could he change back when his alpha needed him to be strong? To be lethal? His new alpha needed Stiles’ wolf more than Stiles’ person right now. More than that, Stiles didn’t hate this alpha enough to change back, to anchor to his hatred and become a human again. The alpha he hated so desperately was dead now.

Stiles sat back on his haunches and stared at the wolf, with his dangling scarf and soft, pale curly hair. He smelled nice, at least, like a pack, like he had an alpha. Stiles hadn’t liked the old alpha, had hated the orders but no longer resisted. He didn’t even really want to be a wolf. He just wanted to live in the quiet shards of his mind where all he did was hunt and scout and kill, like his alpha said.

Except that alpha – powerful, strong, and terrible – was gone now, and left was the strongest of the four of them, a big man called Samuel. He didn’t know how to give orders, he was the same as Stiles. They all were. None of them lead, they all just did as they were told.

A car pulled up, the sun was just starting to rise, and Stiles stood back up, growling at the sound, the scent of more wolves – one of them an alpha – moving in. He stared at the door as they entered – five new people, and then the tall hunter again. Each of them smelled abstractly like… _home_.

They had individual scents, something Stiles had never smelled before. He had never even seen them before, not since becoming a werewolf. His eyes, flitting between the members of the pack, settled first on a girl with long, gently curled hair, whose eyes (colors were hard as the wolf) seemed fixed on him as her teeth worried at her bottom lip. She was beautiful.  
  
The alpha that entered didn’t immediately posture, just briefly touched the odd beta on the neck. He must belong to this alpha. The alpha stared at him for a long time, “Is it you, Stiles?”  
  
“It’s him, Scott. Can’t you smell him?” The other of the not-wolves spoke. She wasn’t almost-human like the beautiful girl with the focused eyes. She was her own kind of beautiful, with sharp, dark features and shoulder cropped hair. She smelled off, still a shifter, but different. A coyote? “It’s Stiles.” She stepped forward and Stiles let out a loud snarl. Next to her, a dark-haired, quiet werewolf – older than the others – placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling to hold her back.

“We can’t approach him like that. Not too quickly.” This werewolf pushed past his companions, “Isaac, back up. Go sit with the others. Everyone else back up.” The wolf stripped off his jacket and tossed it towards Stiles. “Smell that, Stiles. We’re not here to hurt you, we’re not your enemy. You’re safe, Stiles.”

Stiles watched everyone in the room, but took a few steps forward, sniffing at the jacket. It smelled familiar. Achingly familiar, and pleasant. He wanted to wrap himself in this scent and never smell like anything else. He grabbed the jacket gently between his teeth, tugged it towards his pack. It smelled nice, it smelled safe. Maybe the wolf was right, maybe he was safe now.  
  
“Stiles, you have to pull the wolf back from the surface.” The wolf – a beta, had dropped to a crouch on the ground, “I know it’s hard, I know that especially now, trying to protect your alpha, the wolf feels so much stronger than you. But you’re the same person, Stiles. You and the wolf, you’re the same. You’re just as strong no matter which face you’re wearing.”

This wolf knew what it was like to do a full shift. He knew how it felt to tug the wolf from the skin and slip back into a human body. Stiles tilted his head to the side as he studied him, creeping closer. He didn’t feel like a threat. He felt like home and safety and love and all the things Stiles had stopped believing in. The wolf didn’t move, just kept staring at Stiles with concerned eyes. Eyes that scratched the surface of Stiles’ memory.

“Stiles, it’s us. It’s Derek. Scott, and Lydia. Malia and Cora, Isaac and Chris Argent. You can change back, Stiles. No one is going to get hurt, you’re safe.”

Derek.

Scott.

Lydia.

The born beta who gave up his alpha spark.

The true alpha, who didn’t need to posture, didn’t need to steal.

The banshee, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

Stiles darted from the room, hearing his alpha call out after him and the born beta – Derek – tell everyone to wait. Stiles stepped into his bedroom and held onto the scent of the beta and those quiet, calm eyes. He reached to try and tug back the wolf, trying to trust the beta’s—Derek’s words. He would be as strong in his human skin as he was in the wolf. His pack was here for him. He was safe. He was shocked when it worked, breathing for a moment before grabbing the dirty sweatpants and pulling them on, taking a step back into the main room of the house.  
  
“Oh Stiles.” It was Lydia who spoke, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, green eyes flush with tears. “It’s really you.” She looked older, and tired in a way that was deeper than a few nights of bad sleep. She was still the most beautiful girl Stiles had ever seen.

Scott took a few strides forward, coming in for a hug and Stiles instinctively growled, dropping into a defensive stance, eyes flashing blue and fangs dropping as he moved in front of his pack. Derek placed an arm gently across Scott’s chest, offering quiet strength, a quiet confidence.

“Stiles….” Scott’s voice sounded wrecked and he looked heartbroken.

“He’s not your beta, Scott. You’re an outside alpha. His alpha died hours ago, and his new alpha is still adjusting to the extra power. It’s overwhelming, and terrifying.” Derek turned to Stiles, “Stiles, how long have you been a werewolf?”

Stiles took a long breath and turned back to glance at his pack, “Three….years, I think?” He turned back to the newcomers, “I lost count, I guess.” He tried to search, to find his anchor, to force the wolf back, breathed in the scent of Derek again, and when his eyes landed on Scott’s face again, Stiles knew they would be brown. “Gage turned me as soon as he took me.” The memories were piecing themselves back together, the history of who he was before he was the wolf flooding into him as the levy broke. They were here. They’d come for him.

“I fought.” He looked at Scott, at the other alpha, the alpha that should have been his. “I fought for six full moons to resist his orders. But you never came.” The last line came out hot with anger and Stiles immediately wished he could take it back. “Gage said you weren’t looking.”

“Stiles, we were looking every chance we could. We looked everywhere. Derek…tell him.” Scott sounded broken, he sounded tired, Gage would call him weak, a pitiful alpha.

“We have been looking every moment we could spare since you left, Stiles. For three years.” It was Derek this time, speaking softly, keeping his eyes turned away from Stiles, showing respect, showing that he understood the internal battle Stiles was dealing with. “Come with us. It’s time to come home, Stiles.”

“Pfft. _Come home_. How cute. Killing is all he knows how to do.” The Samuel, the new alpha, said, speaking for the first time. “You can’t have the true wolf. He’s deadly, he’s dangerous. Your pack wouldn’t know how to control him, what with your pitiful, weak _True Alpha_ and your beta who works with the hunters. And how many of you even have blue eyes? You’re a worthless excuse for a pack. Leave us be.”

Anger, hot, unexpected anger bubbled up as Stiles whipped around and roared, surprising everyone in the room including himself with the sound. “Don’t you dare. You don’t even know who you’re talking about. They’ve done more to help people – wolves and humans – than anyone in this pack ever has.” He wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, “They’re my friends, my family. You can’t make me stay.”

The challenge rung out clearly, the room falling into silence.

“Oh, I can make you stay, wolf-boy. You tried real hard to ignore Gage at first but then you broke. I bet you’re still broken.” Samuel pushed the other two wolves off of him and stalked towards Stiles. Scott and Derek tensed and moved to step forward, but Stiles held out a single shaking hand. “Submit, wolf boy. Show me your neck like the beta bitch you are.” The alpha flashed red eyes at Stiles who stood firm in his stance, the stubborn look they all knew and loved plastered across his dirty, pale face. “KNEEL.”

Stiles fists clenched, blood dripping from his hands as his claws dug into his palms. He kept taking deep breaths, seeing Lydia’s face in his mind, breathing in Derek’s scent, remembering the strength of Scott’s hugs.

Stiles was frozen for a long time. Scott and Derek both started to growl, a low rumble in their chests as they glared – red and blue – at the alpha.

It took every ounce of Stiles’ strength to lift his head to meet the alpha’s red gaze, “Gage took me, he made me what I am. I submitted to him because I didn’t have a choice.” Stiles took a slow step back and winced as he turned his back on Samuel, terrified to show his back to the alpha. “I have a choice now, the choice I should have always had. My alpha is Scott McCall.” Stiles gave a half-smile to Scott, “If he’ll have me.”

Scott nodded immediately, reaching out to grip Stiles’ shoulder firmly, and Stiles felt the force of the other alpha’s power over him drop away as his allegiance shifted. As soon as it did, he brought his hand up to touch Scott’s hand softly, pushing it off of his shoulder before he spun, growling at the other Alpha, dropping into a defensive stance in front of Scott, eyes cobalt.

The Alpha was enraged at the betrayal and charged. Stiles feinted forward before leaping backwards to knock both himself and Scott out of the way. With Scott and Stiles down, Derek had leapt at the enraged alpha, knocking him back several feet and blocking him from reaching either of them. One of the other betas had jumped up now, running to tear Derek away from her alpha, but Isaac intercepted her, throwing her aside easily. The Alpha finally pushed Derek hard enough that he flew backwards towards the rest of the pack.

Stiles was back on his feet now, anger rushing through his blood, and he strode towards the alpha, calling up the wolf, seconds from shifting into his most lethal form when he heard Scott’s voice ring out, rolling with alpha power, “Everyone stop.” For once, the first time since becoming a werewolf, it didn’t hurt him to listen to the voice, to follow the alpha’s command.

Chris Argent spoke next, “McCall pack, leave. Stiles included.” He had a gun trained on the alpha’s head, “These three are being detained to be interrogated about their crimes.”

“What about him.” The third beta asked, thrusting a finger at Stiles, “He’s as guilty as the rest of us.”

Argent didn’t respond, “Go, now.”

Scott wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and pulled him towards the door, away from the alpha and the two betas that remained of what had once been a feared wolfpack. He took a long breath of the morning air as he stood, barefoot and dressed only in sweatpants, next to Derek’s Toyota. He wouldn’t break yet. Not here, not until he was safe.  
  
Derek, Scott, Lydia…. “Is my dad…?” Okay? Alive? Drinking himself to death?

“Your dad is okay.” Scott said, giving a small smile, “He misses you, but we’ve all been stopping by when we can to make sure he’s okay. He’s been busy, I think it was probably a good distraction.”

“I don’t want him to see me like this. I need a shower, clothes.” Stiles licked his lips, “Is this real? Am I really here right now? I’m not dreaming? You guys actually came for me?”

Derek, whose shirt was ripped from the Alpha’s claws, shallow wounds healing slowly below the ragged gashes, had retrieved his jacket from inside and placed it over Stiles’ shoulders, “Count your fingers, Stiles.” He said softly, giving him a firm squeeze on his shoulder.

Stiles held up a shaking hand. Four fingers and a thumb. His knees nearly buckled – would have – if Derek’s arms hadn’t wrapped around his chest and held him upright. Scott was in front of him in an instant, and Stiles buried his face into the alpha’s chest and let himself go, struggling to breathe and to believe that after six months of hoping and two and a half years of hell this was actually real.

He was home. He was safe. This was his pack.

\--

Stiles slept on the way home, head on Lydia’s shoulder, one hand on Isaac’s knee, gripped tightly even in his sleep. Cora and Malia rode with Argent on the way back towards Beacon Hills. Scott kept turning back to look at Stiles, as if he expected him to disappear, to be gone by the time they made it back across the county line. They went to Hales’ new house, built far away from the ruins of the old Hale house, and gently woke Stiles.

Only Stiles didn’t wake gently, and it was only Isaac’s strong grip on his hands that kept him from unintentionally hurting Lydia as he flailed as he woke, eyes flashing, fangs dropping, looking for the danger that had caused him to wake. Derek had thrown the car into park and opened the door, dragging Stiles out and to his feet. “Breathe, Stiles. Breathe. You’re safe here.”

Stiles took a long, shaky breath, looking up at the house and then back to Derek, “Where are we? Are we in Beacon Hills? I can’t be back in Beacon Hills, they’ll put me in Eichen.” Stiles cut himself off abruptly as a dark look crossed his eyes, “I don’t even deserve Eichen. I broke the code.” Stiles heard Argent’s SUV pull up and he ran towards it. Scott, Derek and Isaac, still adjusting to the fact that Stiles was a werewolf, stumbled into each other slightly as their attempt to grab him had them stumbling through the air.

“I broke the code. I killed people – innocent people. Why am I alive? Why didn’t you put the entire pack down?” Stiles yelled as Argent’s door opened.

Chris, surprisingly collected given the unexpected outburst, crossed his arms over his chest, “You’re not responsible for the crimes of your alpha, or the crimes you committed because of your alpha.”

“What about the ones I was convicted of. My eyes were blue before Gage ever gave me an order.” Stiles’ eyes were blue again, as if staring at Chris with the eyes of a werewolf killer would convince him to shoot him right there.

“Stiles.” Argent touched his shoulder gently before gripping it tightly, “You’re still probably the same stubborn Stilinski that you were three years ago but listen to me. No one, not me, not your father, not your pack, no one believes that what the Nogitsune did was your fault. What you did under Gage wasn’t your fault. You’re not a monster, Stiles, not unless you choose to be one of your own free will. And you weren’t convicted. You were found _not_ guilty.”

Stiles stared up at Chris, “But…Allison.”

“Allison died defending the people she loved. She died to save Lydia and Isaac, and she would do it over a hundred times if the result was the same – if everyone she loved got out of there safely, including you, Stiles.”

Stiles closed his eyes. He knew when a fight had been lost. “Okay.” He said softly, giving a brief nod and turning to walk towards the house. Derek led him to a mostly-empty bedroom, Cora brought him a towel and promised they’d find clothes for him to put on after the shower. His heart panged at the idea of wearing real clothes, something more than a pair of ratty sweatpants.  
  
Cora left to find clothes, and as Derek turned to leave the room Stiles gripped his arm tightly, effectively anchoring Derek in place with a strength that shouldn’t have surprised Derek but did. “Can you stay?” Stiles asked softly, “Please. I’m so… this feels like a dream. It doesn’t feel real. I’m afraid everyone is going to walk away and I’m going to wake up and it’s just going to be a trick and I’ll be back in a white fucking room playing Go with a monster.”

Derek studied the younger beta and then nodded, “You go get in the shower. I’ll stay.”

Once the water was on, and Derek heard Stiles step into the tub he opened the door to the bathroom and sat against the door while Stiles showered. Neither of them said anything, Derek listening to the erratic beating of Stiles’ heart, listened to the sharp breaths that Derek knew were his attempt at muffling sobs. He stayed there until the shower shut off, and then he stood up.

Stiles stepped shamelessly out of the shower before Derek could exit the bathroom. Derek handed him the towel and tried not to look at the way that becoming a werewolf had changed Stiles’ body but he couldn’t help it. He had fully grown into his height by now, the same height as Derek, if an inch or two less broad at the shoulders. Where Derek was more built muscle, Stiles was thin, probably too thin, sculpted muscle stretched tight over too-big bones. Stiles looked up at met Derek’s eye, “I fought taking orders from the alpha for six months.” He said softly, “For six months, they gave me enough food to keep me alive, water, and a ratty blanket. No clothes.”

Derek’s heart panged and he slowly – painfully slowly – reached to pull Stiles into a tight hug, pressing his face against Stiles’ neck, nuzzling against it softly, scenting him, trying to layer their pack’s scent on top of Stiles’ clean skin. “I tracked you, after you were taken.” Derek whispered against his skin, “I tracked you from the courthouse to the parking garage and then you were gone. We looked everywhere, we fought so hard to get you back, I’m so sorry it took us so long.”

Stiles nodded, gripping Derek back, “I’m alive.” He said softly, “I’m capable of being a mindless killing machine and not feeling that bad about it, but I’m alive.” Stiles’ eyes burned blue for a moment, staring into Derek’s. “I thought about what you said, in my bedroom. About not being a monster. But I am, Derek. The things I’ve done—”

“The things you’ve done don’t matter. Not even to Scott. Stiles, things are not the same around here, not after three years. There are more wolves in the pack, and some non-wolves too. We’ve had to deal with more danger and we’ve barely made it through, because we needed you.” Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’ and breathed for a moment, “None of us care what you’ve done. None of us care if you think you’re dangerous or a monster. All we care about is that you’re back.”

Stiles let his eyes fall closed, nodding and giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “Okay.” He wanted to stay in this moment forever, surrounded by the warmth of the shower – like he hadn’t felt in years – the feel of Derek’s arms – safe, warm, home, right – around him, the quiet of the bathroom, blocking out all the other noise. He hadn’t dreamed about his pack, not after submitting to Gage, but if he had, this moment would have been more perfect than he even could have dreamed.

Stiles finally backed away after a while – minutes, maybe longer – and stepped out of the bathroom into the bedroom where a pair of pants, a T-shirt, and a hoody sat on the bed, along with a pair of boxer briefs and some socks. Stiles touched the clothes reverently, pulling on the boxers and the socks first and then frowned as he grabbed the pants, pulling them up and sniffing them. “These smell like me. Faintly, but it’s there.” He said, turning to Derek. “Why do they smell like me?”

“They were probably yours. Which either means your father is downstairs or someone – Scott probably – had a stash of your clothes tucked away somewhere in case we needed to call up the scent of you, or for when we eventually found you.” Derek grabbed the T-shirt and held it out so Stiles could slide it over his head and onto his chest, touching the soft cotton like it was gold.

“Sometimes, I spent months in the full shift. When I wasn’t fully shifted, I just had those ratty sweatpants because otherwise, I couldn’t shift as quickly.” The sweatpants were notably gone from the room, and Stiles couldn’t be bothered to find where they’d gone. He hoped they burned them. Stiles pulled on the pants, and then the hoody. “Gage preferred it, because I couldn’t talk when I was a wolf. I was more deadly that way too.”

Stiles sighed, sitting down on the bed, turning around to press his hands into the mattress before lifting up. “I got a bed after a year.” He said, turning back to Derek with a blank face, “Once I could completely control my shift. Before that I got a sleeping bag because every full moon I tore my bedding to shreds. I was a wolf for a full year before I made it through a full moon without shifting.”

“Stiles, you know so much about anchoring and controlling the shift. You taught Scott and helped my pack. Why did it take you so long?” Derek asked softly, sitting next to him on the end of the bed.

“For the first 6 months, fighting the alpha took all of my strength, I didn’t have anything left to put into fighting the shift, or the full moon.” Stiles sighed, reaching over to softly rest his hand on Derek’s thigh, steadying himself, as if he still wasn’t really sure Derek was there unless he could feel him. “After that, it took me six months to settle on something because Gage had stripped everything away. He kept telling me that you all had moved on, that you had lives that didn’t include me, that nobody was looking for me.” The tears bubbled over again – weak, pitiful beta, stop being a baby – “And eventually I believed him. I used Gage as my anchor, my hatred for him. That’s why I couldn’t shift back once he was killed – not until you guys got there.”

It was an immensely personal question to ask, and Derek knew that Stiles didn’t owe him an answer, but he asked it anyway, “What did you choose? As a new anchor?”

Stiles stared at him for a long time, studying his face, bringing a hand up to rub the back of it gently against the coarse hair of his beard. “You.” He said softly, closing his eyes, pulling his hand back, and turning away from Derek, braced for rejection.

Derek instead tugged Stiles closer, pulled him back on the bed so that he could lay on his back, Stiles stretched out alongside him, head on his chest. He heard a soft knock on the door and looked at Stiles, “Up for company?”

Stiles shrugged and his eyes fluttered closed. Derek gave a noncommittal noise towards the door. Laying there with Derek, on a soft bed, in a pack house, clean, dressed in real clothes, it felt too good to be true.

The pack piled into the bed, first Scott, resting on his side staring at Stiles like he wasn’t sure he was real, and then Lydia, laying against Derek’s other side running a feather light, butter soft hand through Stiles’ too-shaggy hair. Cora tucked herself against Lydia, nosing against the redhead’s neck, breathing in the scent of contentedness rolling off of the banshee. Malia tried to tuck herself between Scott and Stiles, ending up with her head on Stiles’ lower back, breathing in the scent of him. Isaac glanced into the room and Scott turned to him with a nod, waving a hand for him to join them, and Isaac leaned in to nuzzle against Stiles’ hair before stretching out on the outside of Scott, resting his head against the alpha’s back.

Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, Stiles swore he felt one more body drop onto the corner of the bed, and a hand gripping his ankle, but then he was asleep, and slept soundly, without nightmares or dreams at all, for the first time in a very long time.

When he finally woke, it was to the scent of unfamiliar wolves and not-wolves in the den, and he scrambled to get out from under the pile of bodies, ignoring their calls as he got to his feet, running downstairs to snarl at the small group of – teenagers? – that had just walked through the door.

There were five of them, two of them were wolves, one of them smelled like a wolf but wrong, one was human and Stiles didn’t have the foggiest clue what the fifth one was but it wasn’t human. They all startled and one of the wolves, a gold-eyed beta, snarled at him, mirroring Stiles’ stance and partial shift. The tallest, the one who smelt wrong, with a cocky smile and a roll of his eyes stepped forward, “Ah, nobody told us you were back. Chill out, Stiles. We’re pack.”

“You’re barely pack on a good day, Theo.” Malia snarled, leaping down from the second floor to land between him and Stiles. She turned around, giving him a nod, nuzzling herself against his neck in a decidedly canine display of affection, but it worked to settle Stiles down. “They’re safe. They’re allowed to be here. You did a good job, Stiles, protecting the den, but you don’t need to. We’re safe.”

Stiles swallowed hard and nodded, pulling back his shift and frowning at the tall…wolf? “He smells wrong.” His eyes – golden brown and human – narrowed.

“That’s because he’s not a real wolf.” Peter Hale emerged from the kitchen with a snarky smile, “He’s an experiment. A chimera.” The word rolled off his tongue with each syllable delicately enunciated. Peter reached out to touch Stiles at the back of the neck, scent-marking casually before turning back to whatever he was doing in the kitchen. “Welcome home, Stiles.”

Theo rolled his eyes, “I was an experiment. Now I’m just a person.” He gave a halfhearted grin to Stiles, “I’m Theo Raeken. We used to know each other. When I heard about the McCall pack, imagine my surprise when I got back to town to find you not in it. Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall, I thought you two were inseparable.”

“So did I.” Stiles growled, low in his throat, “So sorry that I couldn’t be here to fulfill your fantasies.” He looked past Theo, one arm still resting on Malia’s hip. “Who are the rest of you.”

“I’m Mason.” A young black man said, reaching out and then retracting his hand. “I’m uh, not a shifter, but you probably knew that. This is Corey, a Chimera with some invisibility powers we think. Liam, Scott turned him, and Hayden, former chimera, but also turned by Scott.” He pointed to each of them in turn. Mason smelled off to Stiles as well – a bit like the invisibility kid, but a little like something else that Stiles couldn’t put his finger on.

“You guys should have called before you came over.” Scott said, standing at the bottom of the stairs, giving Stiles space to handle the situation for himself, “I told you that we weren’t having a pack meeting today.”

“Certainly seems like we should.” Theo said, cocking his head towards Stiles, “Scott, did you know he has blue eyes?”

Stiles saw a flash of movement and heard a thud, half expecting to see Scott pinning Theo against the wall, only to be surprised – and not the only one, given the collective gasp that echoed around the living room – that it was Derek with his arm across the front of the chimera’s shoulders. “Shut your mouth, now.” Derek growled the last word, and Theo looked sufficiently shocked into silence.

“I know about his eyes, Theo.” Scott said with a shake of his head, “We’ll talk about it later.”  
  
“Or we can talk about it now.” Stiles said, shrugging, “I’m happy to give Theo a demonstration on exactly why I have blue eyes, if he wants.” It was only Malia’s presence, barely a foot from his own body, that kept him grounded.

“Stiles.” Derek said, turning his head to look at him, “He’s not worth it.” Derek shoved Theo against the wall one more time before walking away to stand by Scott with his arms crossed over his chest.

Stiles turned to the rest of the newcomers, “Do any of you care what color my eyes are? Want to know what I was doing for the last three years? Or do you think you can figure out for yourselves how a werewolf gets blue eyes?”

The male werewolf that had challenged Stiles earlier shook his head quickly, “No, no, I think we’re good.” The others agreed with him.

“I want to go see my dad.” Stiles said, looking pointedly at Scott. “Do I need your permission, alpha?”

Scott closed his eyes briefly and exhaled hard as a pained look crossed his features, “No, Stiles. We’re not that kind of pack. You can come and go as you please. Someone will have to go with you, you don’t have a car.”

“I’ll take him.” Derek said, “If the rest of you promise not to destroy my house while I’m gone.”

“Our house.” Peter called from the doorway to the kitchen, “And dinner will be ready in three hours. Do bring the Sheriff back, and Scott, perhaps call your mother.”

Stiles nodded and started to head out of the house before he stopped at the doorway. There were shoes – shoes he swore used to be his there. He touched them gently before pulling them on and heading out towards Derek’s SUV to give himself a moment to breathe. As he left, he heard Derek’s voice drop to a quiet murmur, either because he wanted as few people to hear as possible, or because he’d once again forgotten that Stiles now could hear his quiet threat, “Theo, the next time you decide to make an ass out of yourself, I won’t be the one that calls you out. I’m very sure that Stiles can do a lot of damage before Scott will get him off of you.”

Stiles smirked and leaned against the bumper of the car, hands tucked into his hoody pockets, looking up at the late afternoon sun, the beautiful, large house surrounded by a thick grove of trees.  
  
“Penny for your thoughts.” Derek said, standing in front of Stiles, wearing his leather jacket and holding his car keys in one hand.

“I’m pretty sure the going rate used to be a quarter for me to not give my thoughts.” Stiles said and couldn’t help noticing how Derek grinned at the casual banter. “It’s a beautiful house, Derek.” The emotions slid into him, sadness, grief. “I’m sorry I won’t get to stay here.”

Derek drew his eyebrows together, “It’s the pack house, Stiles. You’re pack. Why wouldn’t you get to stay here.”

“It’s in Beacon Hills.” Stiles said simply, “Where I’m probably wanted for escaping custody after being convicted of murder.”  
  
“You were found not guilty.” Derek said, “Insanity or no insanity, it’s still an acknowledgement by the court that what happened wasn’t your fault. We’ll go over this as many times as we need to, but let’s just go talk to your father. He’ll know the legal side of this best. And, Stiles a lot has changed in the last three years. More people than you’d think would now be willing to accept that it was a trickster wearing your face and not actually you.” Derek cupped the back of Stiles’ neck gently, squeezing.

Stiles leaned back into the touch for a moment before he nodded and climbed into the passenger seat.

\--

Scott waited until he heard Derek’s SUV pull away towards the road, and then he turned to the youngest members of his pack. “Whose idea was it to come over?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Four pairs of eyes turned to Theo. That figured. Theo just rolled his eyes, “All of you agreed that you wanted to know what was going on at the pack house, and why Scott cancelled the meeting. None of you tried to stop us from coming over.”

“Would you have listened if we did?” Corey asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Theo chuckled, “Probably not, but—”

“But nothing.” Scott said, shaking his head and dropping onto the couch with his head in his hands, “Stiles isn’t okay. Not yet. I didn’t want to introduce him to new pack members today. He’s got enough going on. You’re all in trouble for this. I’ll figure out a punishment later.” Scott sat up and motioned for the pack to sit around the living room. “Each of you gets to ask one question. ONE.”

“Why does Stiles have blue eyes?” Theo asked, sitting on the arm of the couch across from Scott.  
  
“Stupid question.” Malia said with a scowl, “Because he’s killed an innocent.” Theo started to complain and Scott shut him down with a look.  
  
“Where has he been?” Hayden asked softly, holding Liam’s hand in one of hers.  
  
“He’s been with a pack in Oregon since he was taken. They stayed off the grid, they were…not a good pack. I don’t get the impression that Stiles was given any freedom at all, let alone treated well.” Scott answered, giving her a small smile.

“Is Stiles going to have to go back to Eichen house? He was kidnapped on his way there, right?” Corey spoke next, and winced “Sorry, that was two questions.”

Lydia looked at Scott who just shrugged, “We’re not sure. Technically, Stiles was found not guilty, by reason of mental disease or defect. If he had gone to Eichen, he would have been evaluated yearly and released when he was no longer a danger. He’s technically sane, technically no longer a danger but…” She sighed, looked away with a sad look on her face.  
  
“But he’s a new kind of dangerous.” Isaac finished for her, squeezing her shoulder gently.

Liam looked at Mason, who shook his head and held up a hand, “Were his eyes always blue?”  
  
“We think so, yes.” Lydia said, “He’s got enough guilt already, so none of you are even going to comment on eye color anymore. Malia’s eyes are blue, Derek’s, Peter’s. I’m pretty sure Theo’s are only gold because he’s a Chimera.” Lydia gave him a quick glance, “Having gold eyes has never been a prerequisite to being pack.”

“Plus, Stiles has been pack longer than any of you.” Malia said, “Longer than any of us, probably.”

“Not longer than me.” Peter called from the kitchen. “I was Scott’s first pack mate.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure being resurrected resets your pack time counter.” Malia called back with a grimace.

Mason had been listening intently, waiting for everyone else to ask their questions before he asked his, “Why is Derek so protective of Stiles?” He asked, sitting back against the couch, “I’ve never seen him attack another member of the pack outside of training, even if it is Theo.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Lydia, who looked at Cora who just shrugged. It was actually Peter who knew the answer, walking out from the kitchen with an eye roll, “My best guess is that Stiles is Derek’s mate.” He said, “I’m not entirely sure either of them realizes this, but it explains a lot about Derek’s behavior in the last 3 years, especially if Stiles was changed soon after he was taken.”

“Derek didn’t even know he was into guys until recently.” Malia said with a scowl. “And also, how do you know?”

“Werewolves are a little more fluid with their sexuality, Malia, I assumed you’d know this. In my observations, Derek has always been drawn to Stiles, and Stiles to Derek. The age difference was probably the original reason for Derek to disregard anything he was feeling, and when Stiles was a human, it would have been annoying, but something Derek could ignore, or run away from. Once Stiles was turned, well,” Peter shrugged, “not so easy.”

“I thought mates weren’t real?” Scott asked.

“Oh, they’re real. Rare, but real.” Peter leaned back against the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen, “I’m actually impressed, Mason. It took me a long time to put all the pieces together, and it took you one interaction to pick up on it.”

“He’s observant.” Corey said with a proud smile at his boyfriend. “He’s good at seeing things other people can’t.”

Mason blushed at the praise but shrugged, “Derek is usually just in the background, quiet, sort of angry. I’ve never even seen him flash his eyes without some kind of good reason, let alone wolf out on Theo for asking a question.”

Lydia considered this for a moment and shrugged one shoulder, “It’s not our place to tell either of them.” She said, “And that goes for all of us, Peter. If they’re mates, that’s for them to figure out, not for us to meddle in.”

Peter just gave a one-shouldered shrug and headed back into the kitchen.

Scott nodded his agreement and stood up, “Punishments. Theo, you can help Peter with anything he needs until dinner. Hayden, Liam, you’re going to go train with Isaac, Malia and Cora, and they’re not going to pull their punches.” Scott winked at Isaac and then turned to Mason and Corey, “Corey, you go with Lydia to work more on disguising your heartbeat. Mason, you go tell Deaton that Stiles is back and invite him to dinner.”

Mason furrowed his eyebrows, “Why can’t we just call him?”  
  
“Because I said.” Scott nodded at them all and turned towards the door.

“Scott, where are you going?” Lydia asked, raising one eyebrow critically.

“I’m going to go tell my mom we found Stiles. I think it would be better done in person.”

\--

_We found him. He’ll come over when he’s ready. Please give him time, Noah_

If the text had been from just about anyone else, Sheriff Noah Stilinski would have ignored it and raced to the pack house. Somehow, despite Scott being the alpha, on matters relating to Stiles’ kidnapping and recovery, Derek was the final authority. Even Scott defaulted to Derek’s opinion and plans when it came to searching for his son. Noah trusted Derek, had seen him use his werewolf powers for good, rather than harm in the years since Stiles had disappeared, becoming a well-respected paramedic in the community. He’d also seen him risk life and limb to find Stiles, so when Derek asked him to wait, he’d wait.

He tried not to let himself wallow, knowing that the damn werewolves would smell liquor on his breath if he drank. Instead of drinking, he sat on the couch and tried to pay attention to SportsCenter for the next three hours, right up until he heard the familiar sound of tires in his driveway. Then, he jumped out of his chair and raced towards the front door as Derek was in the process of unlocking it, staring over Derek’s shoulder at his son with a hand pressed over his mouth. “Stiles.” Noah could hardly breathe, relief rolled through him at the sight of Stiles standing, walking, alive.  
  
“Let’s get in the house, Noah.” Derek said softly, pushing him back gently and waiting for Stiles to slip into the house past him before turning to lock the door.

Stiles stood just a few feet from Derek, staring at his father with honey brown eyes full of longing, but also sadness. “Hi, Dad.” He said softly, turning his face away as he tried to steady his breathing. “He smells like pack.” Stiles whispered.

Noah had spent enough time around the pack to know that the humans in the pack, which was essentially himself, Melissa and Mason, didn’t talk about how people smelled, but the wolves did. Constantly. “Stiles… are you?”  
  
He didn’t miss how Derek’s hand came up to press against Stiles’ lower back, rubbing gently, before Stiles looked up, and his eyes bled from brown into a sharp, icy blue. “Yep.” He said, blinking the color back. “I’m sorry.”

“For being a werewolf or getting kidnaped? Neither of those are your fault, kiddo. I mean, unless you asked to be bitten, but Peter seemed pretty convinced that if asked, you’d say no.”

“He told you all about that?” Stiles asked, turning to Derek.  
  
“It came up.” Derek remarked.  
  
Noah reached forward, holding out his arms to his son, praying that he’d step forward, and his own tears really did bubble over as Stiles stepped into his arms, gripping back tightly, his entire body shaking. Noah clung to him, “I don’t care if you’re a werewolf, Stiles. You’re still my son. I still love you. Derek told me that it was always a possibility that you were going to come home different than you left. As long as it wasn’t in a body bag, or one of those cannibalistic things, I didn’t much care.”

Stiles pressed his face into his father’s shoulder, breathing in deeply and letting his father’s scent – warm and home and family and love – sink into him like a balm on the haphazardly pieced shards of his fractured mind. “Dad.” Stiles pulled away, “You know what it means that my eyes are blue, right?”

Noah nodded, brushing Stiles’ hair back from his face, “I know, Stiles.” Noah kissed his son’s forehead, “Let’s go have a seat, and you can tell me where you’ve been.”

“Noah, we’re having dinner around 7. Can you bring Stiles back around then?” Derek gave a soft smile and turned to leave.

“No!” The word fell out of Stiles’ mouth before he realized what he was saying. “Sorry, I just…” Stiles looked at his dad and then at Derek, “I know I’m being essentially the neediest werewolf imaginable, and the amount of frankly terrible insults that keep flying through my head in Gage’s voice is hard enough to contend with, but will you stay? I need…I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through this.”

Noah studied the way the dark-haired older werewolf was watching his son. He took in the way that Stiles was looking at Derek as if he was his lifeline, as if he was…his anchor, that was the word the wolves always used. Derek stepped back into Stiles’ arms reach, rested a hand against Stiles’ shoulder and Noah watched the anxiety drain out of his son, watched as, for just that moment, Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed and the look on Derek’s face went from concerned scowl to soft, fond smile.  
  
Derek looked at Noah, “Do you mind?”

Noah shrugged, “Not like you’re a stranger anymore.” He wandered back to the living room, muting the TV and dropping into his armchair. Stiles sat in the middle of the couch, running his hands over the cushions softly, tucking a throw pillow against his face and curling his knees into his chest in a way that didn’t look comfortable at all. Derek took the corner furthest from Noah, his hand rested on the nape of Stiles’ neck, thumb brushing a pattern along the side of Stiles’ throat.  
  
“Who took you?” Noah asked, breaking the silence.

“His name was Gage Thomas. He’s dead.” Stiles looked past Noah, out the big front windows into the yard. “He came because he wanted the Nogitsune to join his pack – which was really stupid, honestly. He was a bit disappointed to get me in its place, but by his standards, it didn’t matter. The only requirements for Gage was that all of his beta’s had blue eyes and obeyed his orders. He was cruel and ruthless and essentially ran some small town in Oregon like he was the king.” Stiles shuddered and Derek gripped his neck firmly, “He used his betas like attack dogs. Anyone who crossed into the territory was an enemy.”

Stiles finally looked up at his father, brown eyes edged with red that was rapidly being healed away. “I fought really hard at first. I fought his orders for six months –”

“Which is no small feat. Disobeying an alpha is incredibly difficult.” Derek added, giving Stiles a small, proud look when he turned to look at him.

“—but after 6 months I couldn’t anymore. So, I gave in and did what he said. I was so hungry and tired and….” Stiles took another long breath. “It’s a lot of the same. For like two years. I trained, I went out to scout, I took out Gage’s enemies. Rinse and repeat. Three days ago, we got word that hunters were in our territory. They took out Gage while the rest of us were out. We got back, and suddenly Samuel was the alpha and Gage was just….dead.”  
  
“Who is Samuel?” Noah asked, sitting forward slightly.  
  
“He was a beta like me. He got the alpha spark when the hunters killed Gage. I…” Stiles shook his head, “Isaac recognized me – he’s the reason we weren’t all killed.”  
  
“Isaac? Not Chris?”  
  
“I can… shift fully.” Stiles said, turning his face away.

“Hey.” Derek said softly, bringing his other hand to brush against Stiles’ scruffy jaw. “Being able to fully shift isn’t something to be ashamed of, Stiles.”

“He’s like you?” Noah asked.  
  
Derek nodded, “Yeah. The full wolf.” 

Stiles rested his face against Derek’s hand with his eyes closed as he kept talking, “I was defending my new alpha, and Isaac just…sat there. He didn’t try and fight me, He just waited. He must have sat on the ground in that house, holding back the hunters, for five, six hours? And then Derek and Scott and Lydia and everyone showed up.” Stiles sighed deeply, opening his eyes, “That was this morning, early. We drove back, the pack let me take a shower and then we had a nap. I met the new members of the pack and then we came here.”

Noah knew there was more to the story, tucked inside Stiles’ flippant ‘rinse and repeat’ but he was sure that now wasn’t the time. Stiles seemed so unbearably fragile, like instead of rambling, every word that was coming out of his mouth was a physical blow. Noah was immensely grateful that Derek had stayed, certain that Stiles would have shut down and clammed up much sooner. He didn’t really understand this calming effect the older wolf had, but he wasn’t going to complain.

But just because he wasn’t going to complain didn’t mean he didn’t need to know if Derek Hale had been dating his underage son.  
  
“So, were you two dating before this all happened, or is it a new thing as of today?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow.

Derek’s eyes widened and Stiles’ flew open and he pulled back away from Derek, turning his head from Derek to his father. “No, I -- we weren’t.” Stiles stuttered out, “I mean, I would have but Derek wasn’t…” Stiles turned back to Derek slowly, “Were you?”

Derek’s face stayed steady in its shocked expression, and then he let out a long breath, nodding as if something had clicked into place. He turned to the Sheriff, earning an annoyed grunt from Stiles, “I would never have pursued anything when he was underage.” He said, and Noah knew he was serious. “But…” he turned back to Stiles, “I think I just figured out why his disappearance… affected me more than the others.”

“Would you like to share with the class?” Stiles asked, and Noah smiled at that little piece of snark, that glimpse that the Stiles he had raised was still in there.

Derek licked his bottom lip, glanced at Noah, and then back to Stiles, “Later.” He said softly, leaning over to press a kiss to Stiles’ forehead.

Stiles gave a tired shrug of his shoulders and turned back to face Noah. Derek’s eyes didn’t move off of Stiles, and the older wolf was staring at his son like he’d never seen him before. “What else do you need to know? Am I wanted for escaping?”

“You were kidnapped from custody, Stiles. For a while, they classified it as an escape, but after they basically had all of us under surveillance for 3 months and none of us had made any headway in finding you either, they believed us when we said someone had taken you.” Noah sat back, “Now, I know that turning yourself in in the first place was your idea, so if you want to go back to Eichen, we can go down to the station and get it taken care of—”

“No.” Stiles’ voice was panicked and harsh, but it was Derek’s echoing quiet, resolute finality that actually surprised Noah.

“The alternative is that I can talk to the DA about your kidnapping and see if we can buy some time under supervision. A few months, maybe. And then you can go for re-evaluation. You were found not guilty, Stiles. I’m sure we can figure something out. Not to mention the amount of the town that now knows about the supernatural.”

Stiles had sat back after his outburst, “I tried to get Chris Argent to kill me.” He said, not looking at either of them, “Because I’d rather die than go to Eichen House as a werewolf. At least not in the long-term unit.” Stiles swallowed hard, “I’d rather run.”

Noah nodded, “I’ll talk to DA Whittemore tomorrow and see what he and I can work out. More importantly, Stiles, if they evaluate you, are they going to find you competent?”

Stiles let out a low, dark chuckle, “Do you want an honest answer to that question?” He asked, looking his father dead in the eye and letting his eyes bleed to blue. “I spent two full years being an attack dog, being a weapon, for an alpha with no respect for human life or laws. It’s taking everything in me not to shift and run away and hide. I asked Derek to stay because I was afraid I would hurt you. You. My father.” Stiles’ eyes turned brown again and Noah gave a sigh of relief.

“You wouldn’t have hurt him.” Derek said softly, “He’s your father.”

“He’s human.” Stiles said. “He’s breakable.”

“You were human once too.” Derek responded, “Breakability didn’t seem to stop you then either.”

Stiles sighed and shook his head, “I’m going to go see what of my old clothes even still fit. Alone.” He stomped up the stairs.

Derek sat back against the arm of the couch and scrubbed his hands over his face, looking through the cracks in his fingers at the Sheriff. “He’s not as dangerous as he thinks he is. He just needs time with the pack, time to acclimate to being a wolf without the constant fear of an alpha giving him orders to kill.”

“I can hear you.” Stiles called from his bedroom, just loud enough that the Sheriff would also be able to hear.

Noah just shrugged, “He’s my son. You told me this was a possibility. Him being used as a weapon wasn’t really something I expected, because, before he left he could barely get down the stairs without tripping over himself” -- <i> “RUDE!” <i> \-- “but he’s still my son. I trust you, and Scott, and the pack. If being with you guys will make him better, then that’s what he needs.”  
  
Derek nodded, “Buy us time. Three years of trauma isn’t going to disappear, but we’ll work on it.”

\--

Dinner turned out to be a much larger affair than Stiles had expected it to be. It somehow hadn’t occurred to him that “pack dinner” meant the entire pack – including the younger wolves and non-wolves he’d met earlier, Melissa, Chris Argent, Dr. Deaton and his father. There weren’t enough seats at the crowded table, and Stiles had resolutely refused to take one of them, sitting on the floor with his plate against the back wall of the kitchen, hands fumbling slightly using the silverware to eat politely.

The food was warm and well flavored, better than anything Stiles had tasted in the last three years, but even still he only managed a few bites of the meat and most of the mashed potatoes he’d been served before he set his plate in the sink, apologized and darted from the back door of the house.

He didn’t go far, just far enough that the sounds of the house were a dull roar, and he just laid down in the dirt between two trees, looking up at the pieces of sky that he could see through the leaves. It was plenty warm, the middle of summer in north central California. Stiles had left the hoody up in the room back at the house. It felt strange to just lay there, dirt scratching against his skin - the human version, not the wolf skin protected by his thick pale brown coat.

He heard someone – he wasn’t sure who – leave the house through the back door and as the heart beat and scent grew closer, he pushed himself to his feet to meet Lydia’s eyes, giving her a small smile. She smiled back, leaning against one of the trees he was sitting next to. “I missed you.” She said softly.

“I missed you too,” He said just as softly, tearing his eyes away from her face, “You’ve been okay?”

She turned her face to look at him with watery green eyes and a sad smile, “As okay as I could have been losing two of my best friends within a month.” She blinked quickly, tears sliding down her cheeks but she was careful not to touch them, not to mess with her makeup. “So much has happened, Stiles, and it took a long time for us to stop habitually dialing your phone number with a new clue or when one of us was in trouble.”

"Tell me.” Stiles said softly, scooting back so he was braced against a tree and patting his lap. Lydia didn’t hesitate to drop into it, curling up against his chest.

“It’s a long story.” Lydia said, nuzzling against his neck. Clearly, she’d spent a lot of time with werewolves in the last three years. Stiles buried his face in her hair and breathed her in, feeling his heartrate settle because _Lydia._

“I’m not really in a hurry to go back in the house.” Stiles murmured, locking his arms around her, lost in the sensation of holding her, as lost as he had been at seeing Scott or letting himself sleep pressed against Derek and surrounded by pack. It all felt surreal.  
  
“After you were taken, the hits kept coming. Derek was kidnapped by Kate Argent, who is apparently alive, and taken to Mexico. We barely got him back and then there was the Deadpool. All of us – those of us who were supernatural – had our names on lists, and there were assassins of all shapes and sizes showed up. It was terrifying. It turned out to all be running electronically from a machine that somehow simultaneously resulted from both Peter Hale and my grandmother. Malia managed to figure out where it was and to turn it off but if she hadn’t, we’re fairly sure we would have lost Derek and Scott.

"The chimeras and the dread doctors came next, and Theo.” Stiles briefly confirmed that Theo was the wolf-that-smelled-wrong before Lydia continued. “Failed genetic experiments wreaking havoc around Beacon Hills. Theo, Corey, Hayden and Mason are all technically chimeras. Theo was the first – he’s terrible, we mostly ignore him – and Mason was the last one, and we ended up having to separate him from a monster called The Beast. Stiles, if you thought what happened with the Darach or the Nogitsune was bad, the beast was… horrific. So much death. Kira left after that, she’s a full kitsune now, so she’s somewhere in New Mexico training until she has it fully under control. We have no idea how long that could take.”

Lydia stopped for a moment to catch her breath, and Stiles just sat there, enjoying the weight of her on his lap and her scent. Enjoying the warm night air and the sense of home, the sense of rightness, even if what Lydia was saying was a recount of terrible things. “We thought it might be over but then the Ghost Riders and the Wild Hunt were next. A lot of that is blurry. It went by so fast and it messed with our memories and the only reason that Theo isn’t still locked away in the grave that Kira put him in was because we needed him to defeat Garrett Douglas and save Beacon Hills from the Ghost Riders. Then Gerard was back, and now we’re basically always on edge because with the help of some ancient creature that induced fear, the Anuk-Ite, he turned the citizens of Beacon Hills against supernatural creatures.

It took killing the Anuk-Ite and releasing people from this super natural fear for them to stop following Gerard and Monroe – his protégé. Gerard and Kate killed each other as far as Argent knows. Hunter groups still come after us from time to time, but mostly we’re able to deal with them. We haven’t lost anyone else yet.” Lydia sighed and cleared her throat before she tucked her head back under his chin, “We barely survived, Stiles. And the whole time, with any energy any of us had left – and basically full time for Argent and Isaac – we were searching for you.”

Stiles nodded against her head, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help, Lyds.” He whispered.  
  
She tugged her head back and shook it, “No, you don’t get to apologize for being kidnapped, Stiles.”

“But everyone – all of you are still in Beacon Hills. You should have gone to college, Scott too. You’re all still here for what – to look for me?” Stiles sighed deeply and looked up at the night sky through the trees again, “I can’t help but feel like I just fucked everyone’s lives up again by coming back – like things were probably just starting to feel normal again.”

Lydia pressed a kiss to his chin and rested her forehead against it, “Things were starting to regress to the mean, Stiles, and you being back isn’t going to throw that off. We all want you to be here, we all spent years looking for you. I can’t begin to tell you how often we’d get calls from Argent and Isaac and we’d all just stare at each other instead of answering, afraid that they were finally calling with proof that you were dead. Derek and Scott refused to believe that you were dead.”

“And you?” Stiles asked softly, nuzzling behind her ear where the scent of her was thick and intoxicating.

“I’m a harbinger of death, Stiles, and I listened to those whispers for your name.” She said, “And I never heard it, so I believed.”

“What does normal look like?” Stiles murmured.

“I guess normal probably belongs in air quotes. Nobody is really sure exactly what Peter does, but we think it has something to do with investing. I know how much he makes but don’t care to ask beyond that. Derek is a paramedic, and he’s really good at it. Somehow being able to supernaturally detect heart issues and smell all kinds of medical issues makes him really effective. Scott started a pre-veterinary track at the community college. He’s got another year or so to go and then he’ll transfer somewhere nearby with a stronger program, maybe Sac or Davis or Irvine.

“I’ve been doing distance learning – MIT has been surprisingly understanding of my need to stay home given that I had a family member who had been kidnapped.” Lydia winked. “Cora, Malia and I think Theo, actually, are starting at the community college in the fall. Isaac and Chris Argent make money training hunters and packs to defend themselves. Your dad and Melissa still work. The puppies are still all in high school and mostly live at home.”  
  
“How do you all afford this?” Stiles asked, furrowing his brows while simultaneously chuckling at Lydia calling the younger members of the pack ‘puppies’.  
  
“Well, Derek, Peter and Cora had their own stockpiled money – life insurance and insurance claims, investments that the Hale pack had made. When we brought Argent, Melissa and your dad into the pack, we decided that having a shared pack fund was the best bet – Everyone’s incomes of any nature go into a few accounts, and I’ve designed a program that sends out a monthly allowance to each person based on their personal needs. Derek and Peter had this house built separately – so it is owned by them, but the pack conglomerate maintains the mortgages on your Dads house, Melissa’s house, rent for Argent’s apartment and Theo’s apartment.”

“Why does Theo get pack funds if he was a bad guy?” Stiles asked, brain overloaded with information, but simultaneously thrilled that his brain was actually allowed to be working for a change. “Why is he even kept around, honestly?”

“Well, he has his own apartment because nobody wants to live with him. He’s kept around because he’s useful. He’s not a real werewolf so he can get through and handle mountain ash. He knows a lot about various types of shifters because of what the Dread Doctors taught him. He was legitimately helpful during the Wild Hunt and the war for Beacon Hills. He’s a good fighter. Nobody really likes him, and everyone essentially keeps him at arm’s length, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“And Scott is still a sucker for strays.” Stiles smiled, nodding. “I get it.”

Stiles, so focused on the scent and feel of Lydia, had missed someone’s approach until he heard the cracking of undergrowth, and his head shot up, immediately, instinctually moving Lydia behind him, and dropping into a crouch until he looked up to meet Scott’s eyes. “Oh.” He said softly, moving away from both of them, “Sorry.”

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” Scott gave him a smile, “You were protecting her, dude, it’s fine.” Scott reached out again to brush his hand over Stiles’ shoulder and tugged him forward into a hug that Stiles was happy to reciprocate. “Peter made some kind of peanut-butter-chocolate cheesecake and sent me out here to see if the guest of honor wanted any before the puppies devoured it.”

Stiles grinned before looking at Lydia, the smile faltering, “I uh…Scott are you sure that you want me here? From what Lydia has told me, you’ve been through hell and back since I left and survived just fine. I don’t have any…like, income or anything to contribute to the pack.” Stiles brushed a hand over his hair, “I’m sure I would be okay, on my own, if you –”

Scott’s face cut Stiles off mid-sentence. “Lydia, did you have to tell him everything tonight? Couldn’t it have waited for a while?”

Lydia gave Scott a hard look, “He’s Stiles. He was kidnapped and abused, but he’s not broken.”

Stiles kicked at the dirt for a minute, whispering under his breath, “I’m kind of broken,” and wincing when both Lydia and Scott turned their gazes on him.  
  
Scott sighed, “Stiles, we’ve lost enough people. You’re pack. You’re always going to be pack. Right now, while you’re getting on your feet, it’s okay to rely on us. You don’t have to prove anything to any of us or provide for anyone. I’m sure that in time, you’ll find your own way to contribute. For now, just, let us all be glad that we have you back.”

Stiles’ eyes were teary again as he buried his face into Scott’s throat, his arms coming around the alpha’s shoulders as he held on, feeling Lydia’s hand rub softly against the back of his T-shirt. He soaked in the acceptance, the strength of Scott and the calm confidence of Lydia. “I missed you both so much.” He whispered, unwinding his arm from Scott’s shoulder to pull Lydia into the hug, which she readily joined,

Scott pulled away first, ruffling Stiles’ hair, “Cheesecake?” He asked, “I’ll race you.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow and pulled back from the hug, “Pretty sure you being an alpha makes it impossible for me to beat you.”

“You might be surprised.”

Stiles, stumbling through the back door less than a second before Scott did, was surprised. “You had to let me win.” He said with a grin.

Scott was also surprised, eyes wide, “Definitely did not let you win.” He gave Stiles an appraising grin and then moved to where Peter was dishing out the cheesecake.

\--

“Stiles, you know you can come home if you want, right?” Noah asked as everyone was packing up to leave, taking plastic containers of leftovers with them for lunches tomorrow. “Or anytime. We’ll have someone get you a phone tomorrow. Your jeep is in the garage – it might take some work, but I think it’ll still run. Also – you really could use a haircut.”

Stiles gave his dad another hug and rolled his eyes. “I think I should stay for tonight. There’s still a lot of pack stuff I have to be caught up on.”

Noah nodded and kissed Stiles’ forehead, “I love you, kid. If you need anything, call. I think Derek has me on speed dial at this point.”

Stiles waved his dad off and headed back towards the couches, dropping sideways against the corner of one and closing his eyes for a minute, listening to car doors close and tires crackle against the gravel of the road that lead into the house as the vehicles pulled away. He opened his eyes when the couch sank under a second person’s weight, and looked up to see Malia tucking herself between his legs, dropping his arm from across the top of the couch to cross over her body, rubbing against the skin of her shoulder where his hand landed. Her head rested against his shoulder; face tucked against his throat. The house was much quiet now that the puppies, parents, and Dr. Deaton were gone.

He watched as Scott sat opposite him in the center of the other couch, Cora and Lydia each taking a side, curling into Scott as he happily dropped his arms over each of them. Peter sat in a recliner that faced perpendicular to the two couches. Isaac pushed the Cora-and-Scott-and-Lydia pile over on the couch and tucked himself into the corner next to Cora, who happily leaned back against him, her head falling against his chest. Derek dropped into the far corner of the couch Stiles and Malia were on. Stiles stretched out his legs, feet tucking under Derek’s thigh. The older werewolf smiled, dropping a hand to brush against Stiles’ shins.

“Do you have questions for us, Stiles? I know I gave you a lot of information.” Lydia’s eyes were lightly closed as her hands ran through Scott’s hair absently.

Stiles hummed for a minute, brain reviewing all the information he’d gotten today. “Everyone gave me a lot of information.” He finally settled on, “I guess I’m just… this pack is so different, from my old pack, from packs I’ve encountered, even from the way it was before.” Stiles shifted so that his back was squared up with the arm of the couch and Malia was resting on him more fully instead of just putting one of his legs to sleep. “This, for one. Are all packs so… cuddly?” Malia started to rise, a look of concern on her face before Stiles smiled and pushed her back down, nosing his way into her hair.

Cora snorted from where she was pressed into Isaac, “No. I can guarantee you that all packs are not this cuddly. We’re definitely the odd pack out when it comes to that.”

“We’re not this cuddly with the puppies.” Malia said softly, pillowing her hands beneath her chin so she could turn to face Stiles, “But us,” She motioned to the people in the room, “Stiles there were nights we weren’t sure we were all going to make it. We were all so terrified after losing you that we all sort of just, clung to each other. Now it’s the new normal.”

“And none of us really mind.” Scott added, “Except Peter.” He threw a grin at the oldest beta.  
  
“I participate occasionally, and in ways that are appropriate for a man my age.”

“Peter you aren’t even forty.” Derek said, rolling his eyes at his uncle.

“It started as just cuddling, just comfort.” Scott said from the other couch, “There have been times when it literally felt like the world was ending and all we had to hold onto was each other, so sure, we’ve crossed some social boundaries, but it isn’t hurting anyone. As long as everyone wants the contact, why wouldn’t we?” Scott shrugged, “That might change now that you and Derek are mates but—”

Lydia had slapped her hand over Scott’s mouth a second too late. Stiles sat up so fast that Malia ended up on the floor, staring at Derek with wide brown eyes, “Now that Derek and I are what now?”

Derek had both of his hands over his face on the other end of the couch, torn somewhere between laughing and crying as Lydia glared at Scott. Scott, at least, had the wherewithal to blush and look sheepishly at the floor. Peter was cackling in his arm chair.  
  
“Derek.” Stiles growled.

Derek turned to Stiles with his lips pressed into a flat line, “Remember what I was saying at your dads earlier? About why your disappearance affected me differently than the others?” Stiles just stared expectantly. “I don’t know how they figured it out, but Scott’s not wrong.” Derek folded his hands into his lap.

Stiles stared down at his own hands, blush spreading across his face as he looked around at the various pack members, eyes landing back on Derek. Derek who had felt like home and safety and right from the moment he’d walked into that house. Derek, who had been his rock during one of the most overwhelming days of his life. God had it all happened today? “I don’t know what to do with any of this information.” He said in a tiny voice, “I’m not mad, Derek, I’m just…overwhelmed.” He looked up to meet Derek’s eyes, “I barely even know who I am right now.”

Derek just gave Stiles a small smile, “I know how that feels.” He said softly, “It takes time to heal from what you’ve been through. Nobody,” He looked pointedly around the room, “is going to ask you for anything until you feel like yourself again, myself included.” Derek helped Malia back onto the couch. “We’re just glad you’re safe, Stiles.”

“Speaking of.” Isaac said softly, “I talked to Chris and I think we might stay for a while this time.” He was absently braiding section of Cora’s hair, “Since we don’t have to keep looking for Stiles, both of us sort of want to just… be home.”

Scott turned to Isaac with a nod, “Of course.”

“Sure, Scott, invite Isaac to stay in our house without asking us.” Peter said over the edge of the book that had materialized from somewhere. “It’s like none of you realize how lucky you are.”

“I mean, I can go stay with my dad if you guys want.” Stiles said with a teasing grin. He then recoiled as everyone except Peter shouted.

“NO.”

\--

Stiles was woken gently in the middle of the night from a nightmare by Lydia. She, Derek and Scott have curled up in bed with him for the night; the three he trusts the most. The three he knows. Derek and Scott are faintly awake, but Lydia has the best hearing, and heard the tiny whimpers Stiles wasn’t even aware he was making. She shook him out of the darkness and he hid his face in her neck until he could breathe again. She didn’t ask for anything in return. She just held him and he let her and breathed her in, breathed in Scott and Derek and pack and lets himself be lulled back to sleep.

When they woke, Noah had brought breakfast from the local diner. He and Stiles left the pack house for some essentials – a new phone, a haircut, and a quick stop by the local Wal-Mart for essentials like a toothbrush, a body wash of his own, and a few packs of underwear and socks. Stiles hesitates for a moment as they walk past the books on their way to pick up a few grocery essentials that Peter asked if they could grab. His hand lingers on the paperbacks, on the magazines, and Noah tells him to get whatever he wanted.  
  
Stiles had forgotten what freedom felt like. In this moment, freedom felt like three paperback books and a comic book. He called up Derek’s scent in his memories, the shape of his eyes – not the color — and he felt the emotions settle. He hugged his dad, and neither of them said anything more about it. 

Back at the pack house, it’s mostly quiet. Lydia was the only one home when he came back through the door. Peter had to work but he’d be back to make dinner. Derek had to work, and he’d be gone until the late evening, and Scott had class. When Noah dropped Stiles off, Lydia was sitting on the couch with her laptop on her legs, and she looked up to give Stiles a bright smile. She clicked a few more times on her laptop and then shut it. “Your hair looks nice.” She patted the spot next to her.

Stiles set the bags down and joined her on the couch, fast enough that Lydia has to blink a few times. “Sorry… I’m working on being more discrete.” He can still smell himself, and Derek and Scott on her from last night. “What were you working on?”

“A homework assignment that isn’t due for a few weeks.” She said with a grin, “How was your day with your dad?”

Stiles let out a long, low breath, blinking straight ahead. “Weird.” He responded, honestly. “I just…keep waiting to be told what to do. To be told to shift, to be told to kill. The longer I go without getting an order like that, the more anxious I get.”

“You’re safe.” Lydia whispered, a hand running the length of his spine in a slow, soothing motion. “You’re safe, and you’re home. It’s going to take time, but eventually you’re going to believe me.”

Stiles _wanted_ to believe her so badly. Wanted to believe that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to believe that he was finally home, with _his_ alpha. The True Alpha. He was home with his banshee, beautiful and brilliant and terrifying. He was home with _Derek_ , the born beta, his _mate._ None of it felt real. He didn’t know how to make it real, other than to just keep living.

With nothing but time, and probably therapy ahead of him, Stiles nodded, turning to her, “What do you know about mates?”

\--

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts!! 
> 
> Come see me at [tiniestawoo](https://tiniestawoo.tumblr.com/)!


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